


A kitten in a Snowstorm

by Notawriterjustalurker



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humour, Hypothermia, Light Whump, Matt finds a kitten, POV Foggy Nelson, and it’s quite cute, thats literally it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notawriterjustalurker/pseuds/Notawriterjustalurker
Summary: That time where Matt nearly got hypothermia after rescuing a kitten from the freezing Hudson
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Karen Page
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70





	A kitten in a Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Котенок в снежную бурю](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839473) by [SadJuliy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadJuliy/pseuds/SadJuliy)



> This is a therapy fic, a fic I wrote to make myself feel better, I hope it makes you feel fuzzy inside too 😂🥺

Foggy's phone was always on loud; _always_. Especially in the small hours of the morning, and _especially_ when New York was facing one of the worst snow storms it had seen in years. On nights like these, worrying about Matt was unavoidable and he guessed, just the price of having the neighborhood vigilante for a best friend. 

But there were still ways he could be surprised, and that wasn't easy, given the things Matt could get up to.

Like tonight, for example, when Foggy had been knuckle deep in a bowl of popcorn, half an hour into a movie with the pretty end of Marci tucked under his arm and all settled in for the night. Then, and only then, did his phone ring, answered to the sound of Matt's chattering teeth as he chanted two seemingly meaningless words down the phone —

"Bring ham."

Bring?.... _Ham?_

"Ham?" Foggy sat up straighter, as if doing so would somehow improve the clarity of his hearing. He toyed with the idea that it was just really bad reception — extreme weather had a habit of doing that after all — and that maybe spending all that time working above Nelson's Meats was taking more of a toll on his mental health than he thought.

But Matt repeated it again — "My apartment, bring ham." 

"Are you having a stroke there buddy?" Foggy had to ask. Marci gave him a look that was worrisome but underwhelmed. "Actually," he paused, "don't answer that, stay right there. I'm coming over."

* * *

The door was open when he got there of course, _when_ he got there — it had taken him a what felt like a week to make the short walk from Nelson's Meats to Matt's place given that the snow on the sidewalks had solidified into a compacted layer of sheet ice during the hours of the night. And apparently he had not, by any means, worn the appropriate footwear — or appropriate _anything wear_ really. 

He found Matt sitting on his bed, shirtless but otherwise soaking wet and shivering. 

"You went out?" Foggy gestured loosely towards the windows, "in _this_?" Because he had, hadn't he? Matt Murdock had thought it a good idea to go parkouring in the middle of a blizzard in nothing but a nipple-grazingly thin layer of spandex, having had the stupidity to think he'd come out of it entirely unscathed.

"L-l-listen, Foggy," he began, clenching down hard to try and stop his teeth from moving without his permission — "it's not.."

Foggy sighed hard, already growing impatient at the prospect of spending the night here — _again,_ instead of in his nice cosy bed. "You need to get the rest of those clothes off buddy, like, right now."

Matt shook his head and seemed to ignore him. "Did you bring it?" He asked.

"What?"

"Di— di-did you bring _it_?" His hand reached out towards the paper bag that Foggy had already forgotten he was carrying under his arm.

A wave of stubbornness washed over him and he took a deep breath in, blurting out — "You know, I think it's ridiculous," he said, "you have me so wrapped around your finger that you expect me to disrupt my plans for the evening just to bring you the finest meats that Hell's Kitchen can offer, at any God damn moment that takes your fancy? I mean, really? Is this what our friendship is to you?"

Matt rolled his eyes — slowly. So slow they looked like they might actually be frozen in his sockets. "But did you bring it?"

"Of course I did." Foggy held it out to him, "but I really can't see how this is going to help your predicament."

"Under the bed," Matt said, his voice quivering as he pointed vaguely downwards, his fingers, now that he was looking more closely, appeared to be coloured a rather unhealthy shade of bluish purple.

"What's under there?"

"Just…" Matt persisted, _"look."_

So reluctantly, Foggy bent down, kneeled down to be precise; until his palms were flat and his cheek was flush with Matt's lovely clean floorboards. "I don't see anything," he said without really looking, right before he realised that directly in front of him was a dark patch, interrupting the light; a fuzzy — _furry_ looking dark patch.

"Is that…" Foggy made a little back and forth scratching motion on the floor with his fingers… "is that a _kitten_?"

"He won't come out." 

"Where'd you get a kitten from, Matt?"

Matt ignored him — again. Really, he should have been used to that by now. "He's scared, Foggy." 

"So _this_ is what the hams for?" He made a knowing sound, "to coax out your little kitten hostage?" He softened his voice and directed it more towards the space under the bed. "Hey little guy…did Mr Murdock here kiddapp you away from your little kitten duties?"

"Foggy.."

"You want some ham buddy?" He dipped his hand into the bag and tore off a tiny piece. "Here ya go… _pspspsps_. Don't be scared. We just gotta get you warm. You must be hungry huh?" He lowered his voice again to a whisper, "it's the finest ham Hell's Kitchen can offer..." 

"Foggy…"

" _Shhh_. He's coming out." 

They both froze for a moment — Matt, more in the literal sense of the word, and the kitten, after a few seconds poked its nose out from under the bed, swiping the piece of ham and dragging it back into the dark. It was ginger tabby — a cute little guy, if Foggy was being honest, and he was just as wet and miserable looking as Matt was. 

"You got blankets?" 

Matt answered with a shaky breath. "Cupboard."

And after gathering three from his wardrobe, throwing two directly into Matt's face as he passed and using the third as some kind of kitten catching device, he knelt again, coaxing him far enough out that he could reach him, grabbing him by the scruff and pulling. "Feisty aren't you?" The kitten hissed and spun under the weight of itself before Foggy caught him in the blanket, twisting and turning in an attempt to make mince meat out of his fingers. "Alright, alright," Foggy said, "you're angry at the world, I get it, sounds like someone else I know." 

Foggy had to glance up then just to check that Matt was laughing, and he was — somewhere underneath the head shaking and the purple lips that were curled resentfully at the edges. And at least now he'd finally started to take the rest of his clothes off, although he was clearly struggling with the laces of his boots.

Eventually Foggy had to offer, because watching him was annoying at best, and excruciatingly painful at worst.

"Hold Catthew." 

Matt shot him a significant expression that to be fair, was the exact kind of expression you might expect when somebody makes a cat pun out of your name. But Matt held his arms out anyway, cradled him gently, as still as he could, though his body was trembling with the cold; the kitten wrapped up tight inside the blanket, with just his orange coloured ears and green eyes showing through the folds of the fabric.

With one boot undone, Foggy twisted and pulled it off, then began work on the next. 

"Where did you find him?"

"Hudson," Matt replied, simply.

"Hudson? As in, the river?" Matt nodded and Foggy shook his head. "Holy shit Matt, it's freezing as hell degrees out there, you could have turned into a popsicle."

There was a pause.

"I couldn't just…"

"You couldn't just leave him, I know," Foggy tossed the second boot with gusto over his shoulder, "who knew the devil of Hell's Kitchen was so ruthless."

Matt did smile then, a small, thin smile, laced with a tinge of something close to: _we'll talk about this in the morning._

The kitten ended up back in Foggy's arms as Matt started getting busy scraping down the remainder of the wet fabric from his thighs, turning away at the last second so as to give him a view of his bare ass rather than his bare front.

"Avert your eyes Catthew!" Foggy exclaimed, of course choosing in fact not to avert his own eyes at all; instead he helped Matt to tuck himself into bed, using his one free hand to layer both blankets over his duvet. 

"Thanks Fog," Matt gave him an appreciative nod and Foggy smiled softly in return as a wave of cold visibly chased itself out of his body, causing him to shudder so violently his eyes clamped shut. 

"Karen's a country girl, she'll know what to do with cats," Foggy said then, thinking out loud mostly because it was obvious Matt didn't have the qualifications to be a responsible pet owner, and even though they'd only met not less than five minutes ago, Catthew deserved better than the fate of being just a another animal filling up a shelter at Christmas.

"Don't call Karen." Matt's voice was slurred sounding, heavy with exhaustion and approaching sleep, but stern, and somehow still mildly threatening.

"Why?

"Just… she'll think.."

Foggy chuckled, "don't worry Matt, everyone knows chicks dig cute furry things. Even Karen. It's the law." 

Matt seemed to resign himself to defeat, too cold and too tired to resist Foggy's reasoning — a rarity that was worth celebrating with a glass of Matt's finest whiskey and hot water bottle that would serve as a great makeshift kitten warmer.

And that's how he ended up spending the night; eventually collapsing on top of the duvet on the other side of Matt's bed with a kitten curled up between the two of them and the taste of whiskey willing him into a deep, weirdly satisfying sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Foggy opened the door to Karen.

"What's going on? Why'd you call so late?" She had her questions, she always did. "Is it Matt?" Understandably, she'd mostly come to assume the worst and was rightfully worried when Foggy had asked her to come by before work; stating that it was _urgent_ and someone needed her help. 

"Just shhh," he hushed her, "quiet," Foggy pointed towards the bedroom, "and look."

Karen's hand came up in a flash to cover her mouth when she peeked around the corner and Foggy was sure she almost squealed at the sight of Matt, still sleeping with a little ginger kitten curled up on his bare chest. 

"I've already taken pictures," Foggy said smugly, "he's never gonna live this down." But Karen was already kneeling by the bedside, her fingers moving in little grabby motions in the air, like a kid surrounded by candy that they were forbidden from eating. 

"It's so… _Foggy…_ it's so.. _cute_." 

Matt woke then, his face creasing to the sound of Karen's voice, mere inches from his ear, his hands quick to notice the furry creature that had taken up residency underneath his chin.

"Hey little guy," Karen whispered, "you're so adorable aren't you…" Matt made a face of mild confusion, mixed with something that might have flattery…. Or... Either way, his cheeks were now a hilarious shade of pink as Karen's fingers made light strokes between the kittens ears. 

"He's called Catthew Purrdock." 

Karen snorted.

"He's definitely not," Matt said grumpily, ungratefully really — given his current circumstances.

"Awhh. He's purring." Karen made a squeaking sound that caused Matt to grin widely before he bit it back, Karen snapping her hand away again, clearing her throat with an embarrassed shrug. "What do we do with him?" She asked, "we can't just…" 

"Well, we sort of thought you might know," Foggy said.

Karen thought for a moment. "Well he can stay with me for now I guess... or at least until the weather's better. Then I can ask around? See if anyone wants to adopt?"

Matt nodded carefully. "That sounds good."

"I mean… unless, you wanna keep him?" Karen gave Matt a look up and down that was just short of perverted, "you kind of suit it." 

Foggy held his hands in the air and dropped them to loudly slap against his thighs, clearing his throat in a deliberately obnoxious way. "Matt's not allowed to keep the kitten. He gets too many chicks making moves on him as it is, and I for one, want to see some left for the rest of the males of the species." Foggy held out a thumbs up. "Okay? _Okay_."

Karen laughed. "I suppose you're right." Her fingers scrunching up behind the kitten's ear one more time before she stood. "I'll find him a good home, I promise."

"Great," Foggy said, "now can you please tell Matt to stop jumping into rivers to rescue strays, he won't listen to me" 

"He won't listen to any of us," Karen countered.

"I'm right here you know." 

"Yeah, we know," Foggy smiled and Karen gave him a mischievous look.

"All part of the plan."

"Uh huh." Foggy nodded.

"What—" Matt flinched as the kitten kneaded his claws into the delicate skin of his collarbone. "What _plan_?"

"Well…" Karen said, "...everyone knows that, uh, you're not allowed to move…"

"— When there's a kitten sleeping on top of you," Foggy finished.

"Yep."

"It's the law."

"The law." Karen agreed.

Matt rolled his eyes again, placing his hand on top of Catthew to stroke the length of his back and smiled. 

"Well," he said begrudgingly "if it's the law...then I guess I'm just gonna have to be stuck here. Aren't I?" 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Can't take any credit for Catthew Purrdock, think I saw it on a piece of fan art, so whoever came up with that, well done 😂😂


End file.
